


Folktale [HIATUS]

by Moonspider



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: ASL, Abuse, Alternate Universe, Angst and Feels, Gen, Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Horror, I love Sans and Gaster best, I'm Sorry, I'm not nice to my characters, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Insomnia, Not My Fault, Other, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Psychological Trauma, Selectively Mute Frisk, Swearing, Torture, Undertale Saves and Resets, Yes I'm British
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-10-21
Updated: 2017-05-19
Packaged: 2018-08-23 20:22:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 11
Words: 18,527
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8341417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Moonspider/pseuds/Moonspider
Summary: Again?Frisk has reset more times than they can count, and they're loving every moment of it. The adventure, the monsters, the incredible places, it's more than they could ask for.But...there's someone watching from the shadows, someone who remembers; and he's tired, more tired than you could ever imagine.





	1. How Many Times?

**Author's Note:**

> [WE WILL BE RETURNING SUMMER 2018!]
> 
> Because Frisk's 'speech' is sign language, it's in asterixes.  
> Telepathy time! All telepathic communication is written in bold, without punctuation.  
> If you want to see the characters and any ground rules on using these guys, please hop over to my tumblr at: folktaleau.tumblr.com   
> It would be much appreciated! ;)
> 
>  Have fun, and tears. I did. This was torture to write, and I love this sweet torture.

Bleep. The sound of the reset resonated throughout Frisk's body, echoing through the empty space. It sounded like a raindrop looks; it was rounded, finalising, almost melancholy in its lament of a world ended. They didn't care.  
How long had this run been? They couldn't remember. It was easy before, when Frisk had cared enough about their family to resist the temptation, to reset, to see what could have been different. But then someone died. The latest case of this had been pretty tragic, at least as far as they could remember. It was Grillby. He had never died before. Strangely enough, Frisk had never even considered whether or not he could die at all, they didn't think so. He had slipped and fallen into a river, at least it was quick. All they found was his suit, and glasses. Sans wasn't the same after that. It was a shame, that run had been particularly peaceful. No one had taken a great disliking to the monsters, and they'd found their own way of life. At least the reset had been justified.  
Not this time. This time, Frisk had gotten bored. It had been the same for a while now: make friends, appease Flowey, Asriel, save the monsters, live on the surface. But it wasn't the same. Sure, Frisk was fine living on the surface, the monsters were better guardians than their parents had ever been, but, nothing could compare to the their antics. There was so much more in the Underground, colourful people, unbelievable places, action. It was like living in a story, the humans couldn't even imagine what Frisk had seen, and, they missed it. The surface was so, grey. That's how this happened in the first place, boredom spurred them to explore, and that's how they fell. Or at least...that's how they thought it had happened. It was hazy now, all the resets piling together into one large memory. Still grey.  
Frisk wasn't sure what else there was to do, maybe even nothing. But it still surprised them how many tiny secrets there were hidden in the dark. Such as the little winding path next to the bush outside the ruins. There was a clearing up there, filled with...socks. Sans' office perhaps? There was a new kind of monster there, shy, barely showing itself. Frisk had stayed there, not even bothering to go and meet Sans, at least for a while. Perhaps they would go back there again next time? They liked it there. Standing up from the flower bed, Frisk shook the leaves from their hair, and made their way slowly down the shadowed track once more, eagerly awaiting a new adventure in this incredible world.

 

Sans blinked. The snow at his feet dampened his slippers, and he stared up at the grey ceiling. Snow gently drifted down, and touched the edges of his eye sockets, caressing them with their chill. He put a hand to his face, and rubbed his brow, where a deep unflinching pain hovered, getting steadily worse the more awake he became. A tiny groan escaped him, and he sighed heavily, his body sinking into the bush beside the ruin's exit. His hand instinctively reached for his notebook, and he opened it at the marked entry. The words swam into focus slowly, the lazy scrawl becoming clear. He scanned the page, letting his old mind connect to the sequence of events from the last run. He gritted his teeth in recognition. Once again, everything had been as it should be. Once again, Frisk reset, when there was nothing to fix. He huffed, a lick of steam escaping his mouth, and began to write. He squinted in concentration, his eyes straining to focus on the page, and not close from the constant exhaustion he faced, now, worse than ever.  
There was a solid thud off to his right, and the ruins door swung back, Frisk struggling to push their way through the thick snow. He didn't bother to look up as they wandered over to him. It was common knowledge by this point that they both remembered the resets, so he had no need to stick to routine. He felt a small tug on his sleeve, and saw Frisk wave out the corner of his eye. They were smiling. "Oh, uh, hey kid." He mumbled, not looking up from his furious writing spree. Frisk frowned, and watched him with a confused expression. * _Come on Sans, we have to go meet Papyrus.*_ He glanced up for a second before resuming.  
"Yeah sure. Uh, go on ahead, I'll just be a minute." Frisk frowned again, and stuck out their tongue. Maybe they had expected a warmer greeting? But by this point, Sans had no interest in playing along. He was so tired.  
Frisk wandered along the forest trail, picking up a stick from the ground and dragging it through the snow. They stood before the bridge, the crudely built fence making them smile to remember it. They took a seat, and waited for the familiar footsteps to follow. They waited, and waited, and then waited a little more, just in case. Frustrated, they got to their feet and wandered back down the path, stepping in their footprints to make the going easier. When they found Sans, he was already half-sunken into the bushes, his small stocky form lying limply in the leaves. He was fast asleep. Frisk rolled their eyes, and stepped forward, clambering up onto his chest and grabbing two of his ribs in their little hands. He flinched, and suddenly, Frisk felt their soul being tugged at. Sans had it clutched in his outstretched hand, and it was glowing with a deep blue colour. Frisk clung tightly to his ribs, and felt their body being pushed up into the air with great force. They let out a silent squeal of joy, letting go with one hand and stretching it wide. Sans blinked, and blearily gazed at them with no recognition for a moment, before pulling his hand away, and bringing Frisk back down to his chest. There was a brilliant blue and yellow light flickering in his left eye socket, Frisk found it...pretty. They let out an almost inaudible breathy laugh, and clapped their hands. Sans brought himself back up, and Frisk fell into a sitting position on his lap. He sighed. "Okay kid, that's enough excitement now." Frisk looked up at him, concern hinting on their face. He wasn't surprised; he looked a mess, the rings under his eyes were so large it was hard to tell where they ended and his face began. "Look, kid. I've got something I need to tell ya." His voice was resigned, and seemed like it hurt to speak. Frisk swung their legs impatiently, they needed to get going, or something could change, they knew that.  
Sans put a hand on their head, and heaved another sigh. "You're a good kid, I know that." It was true. Only once in memory could Sans remember Frisk ever becoming cruel, and killing monsters. And even then, once faced by Papyrus, he watched them break down at his kindness, and give up on the whole venture. They had reset then, not wanting to tarnish their friendships, and had, hopefully, forgotten it. But, he couldn't deal with this either. "Y'see, kid, I..." He rubbed his face again. "This has to stop kid. I can't let you keep resetting like this. I was fine with it, I never really...understood. But you, you did it for the right reasons, mostly. Now..." He trailed off, and looked at Frisk hopelessly. "How many times has it been? Can you even remember? I wasn't gonna say anything, but you've got to stop. This resetting, what do you want from it? Do you really just...get tired?" Frisk looked at him for a moment, and a deep frown came over their face, causing Sans' chest to flutter anxiously.  
_*Sans. I can do what I want.*_ Frisk explained.  
"I know, kid. But, uh, why reset? You, you know you've done everything right. Isn't that enough?"  
_*No.*_  
"Well, what do you want?"  
_*To stay here.*_ Frisk crossed their arms in defiance. * _To play again.*_ Sans wiped his brow.  
"But, don't you want to live normally?" Frisk shook their head vigorously, and Sans took a breath. He had never stood up against Frisk, there was never any need to. But now, there was no other choice. He carefully lifted Frisk down to the ground, and took a few steps forward, his eyes dark. "Well, kid. The way you're going, it ain't gonna end well."

 

Sans inputted the last few numbers of the equation into the machine, and took a breath. His hand shook a little as he pressed enter, and the cold metal stuttered to life. He stared at it for a moment, and then, it slowly sank again, going dead. It was done. He put a hand to his chest, and forced himself to breath steadily. This time, this time it would work. This time, they were all going to survive.


	2. Breaking The Chain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I...I'm sorry too kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initiating madness in 5. Let the tears commence!

Frisk was in Waterfall. They liked Napstablook, and this time around, they spent a lot of time in his house. Standing in the snail field, they entertained themselves by balancing as many snails on their head as possible, and making it to the other side of Naps' garden. Their highest score was five, they had tripped over their own feet with six, and landed in a laughing, and terribly slimy pile. They then decided to join up with Papyrus and Undyne, she was always fun. However, as soon as she laid eyes on them, she refused to let them in until they were clean. Frisk refused, and in turn, Undyne picked them up, and flung them into the pond out the front of the house, sending water in all directions. Somehow, Frisk was never injured by Undyne, even if it seemed impossible. They splashed around for a while, and then moved off to explore the area. The echo flowers muttered as they wandered past, and they tapped each one in turn, listening to the idle conversation. They decided to play around with the bridge seeds, and found a small alcove in the rock wall. Using the strange flowers, they crossed the gap and found a bench, on which was a couple of crumpled up bits of paper. Unrolling one, Frisk attempted to read it, but the words were so small and close together, it was impossible. They did, however, recognise it as Sans' handwriting, so left it be. Wandering back toward the entrance of Waterfall, they noticed a slight imperfection in the flow, and ran towards it with interest. Expecting there to be a wall, Frisk stuck their hands out and waded through, delighting at the surging current washing over them. But then, they stepped forward, and out of the rushing spray. Pulling their bedraggled hair out of their eyes, Frisk gazed around the small cave with wide eyes. This was new too. There was an abandoned tutu sitting on the floor here, stained and faded. Frisk mused as to which of the six children before them this had belonged to, and decided to take it with them. Stepping back into the water, Frisk struggled out the other side, and tripped over a rock. Stumbling forward suddenly, they fought to regain their balance, when they bumped right into something.  
It was soft and puffy, and there was a specific smell. Tangy, and tart, ketchup, along with a musty scent, like old books. Two thin, hard hands clamped over Frisk's shoulders, and for a moment they looked up in startled fear. Sans looked down, and a flash of fear crossed his face too, before he patted them on the back. "Hey kid. It's only me." He reached down, and took their hand, ever so gently, before leading them out of the stream. He tutted a little. "Look at you, you're soaking. C'mere kid." He unzipped his jacket and draped it over Frisk's shoulders. It's warm. "You gotta look out for yourself y'know." Sans stepped forward, leading Frisk along with him. "Let's take a walk huh? C'mon, I know a shortcut." He pulled the hood down over them, and they could only see their feet on the ground below as they were led blindly forward. There was a strange noise, like, an explosion, but in reverse, and an odd shift they couldn't quite explain. For a moment, a sickening feeling rose in their throat, almost unbearably so, before dissipating.  
And suddenly, there was snow underfoot. "Here kid." Sans said, bringing them inside and sitting them on the sofa. "Get yourself warm now." He walked into the kitchen, and came back with a cup of hot chocolate, Green Cylinder. He settled beside them, and watched carefully, until he was sure they were dry.  
_*What was it you wanted Sans?*_ Frisk questioned him. He took a breath, and steeled his resolve. He had to do this now, for everyone's sake.  
"I've been, thinkin' 'bout the resets. And uh, I think this should be the last one. Y'know, save the monsters, free em, get us to the surface. We can be happy." Frisk scowled at his words.  
_*But I am happy. This is making me happy.*_ Sans shifted uncomfortably in his seat, and tried desperately to keep his voice level.  
"Well, kid, I-I'm not happy. All I ever wanted was to be happy with my brother. I...used to be happy." The last words came out as a whisper, like he was fearful of admitting his opinion. Frisk stared at him.  
_*What?! You're saying it's my fault? Your happiness is more important than mine?*_ Sans looked at them, sad, but there was a hint of something more in his eyes, frustration and desperation mixed into one.  
"Kid." His voice was low, monotone now. "Maybe it's fine for you, cus you're young. But kid, if I weren't already a skeleton, you'd be killing me, heh..." Frisk was glaring now.  
_*You're no fun Sans. You can't take this away from me.*_  
"No, kid. You...don't get it." Sans tried to suppress his anger, but by this point, the compiled mixture of anxiety, stress and sleeplessness was all too much for him. "You're taking this away from me! All this, this wasted time. This endless repetition. Do you have any idea how hard this is? I can't take it anymore!"  
_*I thought you were my friend Sans! Am I nothing to you? What? Am I just a nuisance to be gotten rid of?!*_ Frisk waved their hands around in expression of their anguish, slamming their little fists into the sofa.  
"Of course not! But you just don't get it, kid! I can't deal with this. This constant anxiousness. I sit here, and I wonder when the next reset is gonna be. I sit, and beg with my entire being that I'll be able to spend another day with my friends in comfort, before you decide to tear it out from under us again! It's no bother to them, but I remember. Frisk, I'm begging you. This needs to end! This nightmare can't go on!"  
Frisk jumped up from the sofa, throwing their mug to the floor as they did so. * _No! I won't stop! This is my life, it's my choice! I want to keep playing, because you monsters are more fun than humans can ever be. I don't care what you think, this is MY game!*_ Sans sat, his head lowered in reluctance. His hands were shaking, from anger or sadness, Frisk couldn't tell. Suddenly, he was on his feet, his looming black eye sockets boring holes into them, causing a shiver to run up their spine. There was a flash, and a strange animal skull appeared alongside him. It held the same intense, flickering gaze, and Frisk, for the first time, felt very much afraid. "Frisk." Sans murmured, his face cloaked in shadow. His voice, cracked by sorrow and regret, but unflinching. "This is for all of us. I promised I wouldn't, but my sanity can't wait any longer!" Frisk's chest constricted in cruel recognition, and suddenly, they felt extremely sorry. This was their fault, and they knew it. Moving their hands as best as they could, Frisk signed desperately, as a sudden white light filled their vision. * _Sans, I'm sorry.*_ Their soul wavered in front of them, but couldn't take the pressure, shattering on impact.  
Sans stood there, staring blankly down at the tiny body, crumpled on the ground. Blood seeped from Frisk's mouth, staining the carpet; Papyrus' favourite snowman mug, lay shattered across the floor. Sans considered how the humans didn't dust as monsters did, and how terrible it was, to think that they lay, fallen down, forever. His knees sagged, and he fell onto them beside the corpse. Their eyes were dull, lifeless, yet their innocent face still seemed so alive. "I...I'm sorry too, kid." Sans murmured, barely above a whisper. Tears streamed down his cheeks, dripping rhythmically onto the carpet, and glittering in the still light.

 

Frisk woke up. They were lying in the pond outside Naps' neighbourhood, the water cooling their searing chest where the beam had hit. They convulsed for a moment, clutching their stomach and whimpering under their breath. Lifting themselves up, slowly, and feeling terribly bruised, they tumbled onto the ground, wincing. It was okay, a few minutes and the pain would fade away, it always did. But, it wasn't okay. _Sans, what did I do?_ They thought. Sans was everything to them, their dunkle, their teacher, their friend. But, the look on his face when he landed that final strike. He looked...apathetic, lifeless. Frisk's stomach dropped, and they covered their face in panic. _No. Don't think about it. This has to be a mistake._ There was something wrong with this run. What did they do differently to initiate this? They couldn't tell, and nor could they come to terms with the fact, that this had nothing to do with the run itself.  
Frisk went to Undyne's, using her endless enthusiasm as a way to escape from their idle thoughts, as least for a while. Satisfied with the now flaming house, Frisk waved goodbye to her, before moving on. They skipped happily up the mountain trail towards Hotland, eagerly awaiting a visit from Mettaton, when they stopped dead in their tracks. Sans' hotdog stand sat ahead of them. They could see him sitting there, gazing up at nothing in particular. A part of them was deathly afraid of crossing his path, but, they still trusted him. Taking one step at a time, Frisk came up alongside him, and dared a glance. He wasn't looking at them, his eyes were fixed on a spot somewhere above their head, one hand on the table, and the other resting under his chin in mock thoughtfulness. The vacant stare was just as unnerving as his focused one, there were no lights in his eyes. Frisk wasn't to be discouraged. * _Sans! Hey, Sans!*_ They slapped their hands on the tabletop to get his attention, but he didn't move an inch. They reached up as high as they could, and tugged on his sleeve. Still, nothing. Kicking their little legs, they struggled to climb up onto the table, and tapped a fist against his head, like they were knocking on a door. There was a hollow resounding thunk. No response. _Looks like...no one's home._ Frisk stepped back, and sat on the edge of the table. They, didn't know what to do. _Not like this._ Closing their eyes, they focused as hard as they could on the world. The ground beneath them, the cave roof stretching far away from them, the surface, dappled in golden sunlight, beautiful, the core, a boiling mass of machinery, ancient, and dangerous. Frisk reached out to it all, and for a moment, felt the entire world beneath their fingertips. They took a breath, and then, they wished it gone.  
_True reset._


	3. Flowey's New Script

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Oh? Are you lost darling? Eheheh~. I'm sure I can help you with that..."

Frisk sat in darkness. The sound of the reset echoed through the space before dissipating, and fizzling off into nothing. They waited, their body floating, weightless, as if in water. They couldn't breathe too well.  
They were never sure where they went between each reset, a black pocket in space and time, before the world was rebuilt around them. Hopefully, with any luck, this reset would correct the cycle, and they could start exploring again. Frisk's hands were cold, and they stretched and rubbed them together in an effort to put some feeling back into them. Wait... How long had they been there? It was normally no more than a few seconds, a minute at the most. But this, this was strange. They kicked out their legs, their body remaining mostly stationary, as least, as far as they could tell. But they were still there. Why? When would they wake up? Would they? That scared Frisk immensely. They couldn't tell how long it had been. It could've been minutes, it could've been hours. There was no concept of time in such a place. _"This has to be the last one."_ Had Sans...?  
Suddenly, they felt the shape of flowers around them, and the solid ground at their back. Taking a breath, Frisk squeezed their eyes shut. Light filled their vision when their eyes opened, and they squinted up at the gently filtering colour that reached down towards them. They stirred a hand in an effort to move, and for a moment there was no response. Their entire body was numb, and their skin prickled as their senses came back to them. A hand stretched up to reach the light, and then flopped back down into the flowers. But, there was something wrong. The flowers rustled when they moved, and as they sat up, they realised, they were dead; they weren't golden either; Frisk sat in a messy tangle of dark purple flowers with yellow spots: deadly nightshade. Pulling themselves from the mass of dried foliage, Frisk brushed themselves down. They found this odd, but decided they liked the change; it was new, interesting.  
Frisk walked forward slowly, staring with curious eyes. They were surprised by how dark the area was; there was nothing visible beyond the circle of light, and they decided to take it slow. There were trees hanging over the path, twisted, and bristled. Frisk lifted their arms and pushed their way through, cobwebs and pines sticking in their hair. They grumbled to themselves as they pulled the sticky threads back from their face. There was a small light visible through the dense tree line, and they headed for it.  
Breaking out from cover, Frisk stumbled forward into an overshadowed clearing. Sitting in the centre was a single flower, bigger than most normal ones. _F...Flowey?_ Frisk considered. As they got close, they realised the flower was humming to itself, a creepy and off-tune melody. The stem was a dark grey, and waxy-looking, the petals of the plant curling back, almost to touch it; these were a pale purple, washed out, like they were sun bleached. Frisk stepped a little closer, scuffling over the fallen leaves. Silence. The humming had stopped. "Ah~." The flower tilted his head a little, but didn't turn around. "So, you're sneaking up on me? Is that any way to greet a new friend?" Slowly, the head swivelled to face them, and they were temporarily taken aback. It was Flowey. His face was white and round, and slightly shiny; five yellow barbs stuck out from it, one for each petal. The spots printed on the petals were strangely black and very glossy, seemingly...wet. His expression was surprisingly relaxed, and he fixed Frisk with an almost polite grin.  
Of course, Frisk knew Flowey remembered the resets, just as Sans did. However, his memory was no where near as good. Frisk had determined that Flowey would remember the events of two runs, before forgetting it all and returning to his original state, once they had reset twice. Other than that, a true reset was enough to ensure the next run would be the same as before. "Say hello! I'm Flowey! I'm sure we're gonna be best friends." His voice was strange. Rather than its original sharpness, it sounded rattly, like the wind blowing through dry leaves, breathy and unpleasant. "Hmm." Slowly, he rose from the earth, glowering over Frisk with a grin. A black forked tongue flicked out of the corner of his mouth. "Yeah, you look like a tasty one. Lucky me~." He giggled. It was strange, for some reason, although Flowey had expressions, his face never moved when he spoke, simply flicking between the different emotions in quick succession. Of course, that wasn't unusual, but for some reason, not seeing him speak at all, was unnerving. Frisk watched him warily, feeling just a little uncomfortable. "What is it darling? Are we feeling a little scared? Aww, come on." Flowey retracted back into the ground, and raised two vines, like arms, out of the earth beside him. They were the same colour as his stem, but both had bunches of red berries hanging from the end; they looked like grapes.  
"Why don't you have a seat? A chat? Tell me what it's like up there! I'm sure it's faaacinating." Before Frisk could resist, they were pushed, somewhat forcefully, into a sitting position. Flowey sat uncomfortably close, and his vines stood poised, twitching slightly. Frisk wasn't happy with this, but...it was okay. They didn't trust Flowey, and his looks now were less than inviting, but they just had to wait for Toriel, she would keep them safe. _*Flowey. Why do you look like that?*_  
"Why? Because I'm a monster of course! What did you expect?" His grin flickered wider. "Although, you don't know about us, do you? After all, you're human." A vine poked at their arm, trailing down their shoulder, and prodding them in the ribs painfully. "You're so small. Hehehe..." It took Frisk a moment to realise their legs and torso were entirely wrapped in vines, thick, and incredibly strong. Flowey's eyes went black, and his face flickered like a TV screen, into an alarmingly large grin, splitting his face right across the middle. "Naïve, aren't you little one." He hissed, humour caught in his voice. A vine lashed out and grabbed each of Frisk's arms, while another clamped over their neck and head, pulling it back. The vines were covered in tiny white hairs, rubbing against their skin and pricking painfully, rough like a stinging nettle. They couldn't move an inch. "Hey, I know! You must be hungry! Aww, it's okay. Here, have some of these!" The laughter grew in volume, and suddenly, the end of a vine was jammed into Frisk's mouth. The berries were shiny, but as Frisk bit down in an effort to remove them, they burst. A gritty ash-like substance filled their mouth, dry, tasteless, dead. They coughed desperately, wheezing out breaths; their mouth dried instantly, coarse, their throat constricting in effort. Both their mouth and throat grew numb suddenly, and they could no longer tell if they were breathing at all. Flowey pushed his face close, and snickered. "What does it taste like? I'm curious, but I don't have a death wish either. You know, I don't want to die _that_ badly."  
Frisk's eyes were growing heavy, and slowly, their entire body became immobile. They lifted their hands sloppily in an effort to converse, but could barely manage a few words. _*Why?*_  
"Why? Heheh. Darling, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly built to hunt. How else am I going to nourish myself if I don't do this?" The vines removed themselves from Frisk, and they slowly stumped onto the floor. Why were they so tired? An immense headache welled up, but by this point they were so dull to sensation that it hardly affected them. Flowey was shuffling around nearby, swimming through the dirt and poking at their fallen form. Swiftly, a piercing pain rocketed through their chest. The vines surrounding them became more violent, writhing hungrily, until Frisk realised they had begun burrowing into their flesh. Wrapped in a broiling sea of ravenous, unrelenting plants, they felt their body begin to come apart on the ground. A laugh sounded somewhere above their head, but it felt very far away now. Their form had become no more than a useless vessel of pain, and the sound of tearing tendons and snapped bones were all they could hear. "You idiot. Hehehe." The earth rose up around them, and suddenly, the world went silent.  
_Reset._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my! It's been so long! I am terribly sorry people, the fanfic notes should explain my problem to you. I wrote this chapter and the next four to come a long while ago. I've been so desperate to publish, but of course, I love these characters too. I'll try and be more productive in uploads from now on. (Although I am at college. Work is a bitch.) That said, thank you so much for taking the time to read, I promise your dedication won't go unnoticed. 
> 
> Now then, I think it's high time that I injured your feels if I haven't already. Stay tuned lovelies. <3


	4. A...Friend?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Don't you dare think that I'm your friend. I'll kill you the first chance I get."

Frisk gasped as they jolted awake. They rolled over onto their knees and retched, shaking and sweaty. Grabbing handfuls of flowers in their fists, they continued. It felt like their organs were constricting inside their chest, bursting and spilling their fluid in waves. They felt the sensation of blood trickling over their skin, their limbs being ripped from their sockets. Suddenly, it was over. Frisk fell back, the paper-like flowers crumpling underneath them. Their chest heaved in relief, and they slowly got to their feet.  
This was unlike anything they had ever felt before; even Undyne's spears, which had almost caused them to faint the first time, couldn't compare with this kind of destruction. _Flowey. You aren't like this..._ It was so bad, they considered staying put to avoid more confrontation. But, they couldn't do that. Something was wrong here, something had changed. They needed help, they needed to find mother. Frisk took a breath to steady themselves, and started down the path with renewed strength. If they couldn't rely on Toriel to save them, they would have to strike it out on their own.  
Flowey wasn't humming this time. "Oh ho. So you came back? Well, I guess it's to be expected." He turned to face them again. "At least I don't have to stand on ceremony this time, it gets awful boring, you know?" Frisk could remember a time when they were practically friends with Flowey. Maybe it wasn't for long, but they had the same opinion. They both wanted to play again, and have fun. But, Flowey never remembered for long, and it got a little lonely, knowing there was only one who would always remember.  
A vine leaped rocketed from the earth, catching Frisk off-guard, but they were ready. They had so much experience when it came to avoiding attack, maybe they weren't the best, but they knew how it went. Another vine came in from the right, swinging wide, and forcing Frisk to leap out of its path. "Ahaha~. Well, I suppose you aren't completely useless after all. That's a nice change!" Flowey hurled another attack, using the nightshade berries in place of his original 'friendliness pellets.' Frisk ducked as a set of them went whizzing over their head, bursting as they hit the ground. The next lot caught them across the face, thudding into their skin with a dull thwack; luckily, they didn't get the dust in their eyes, but they paused quickly to brush it away, just in case. Flowey was ready. In the seconds it took Frisk to correct their vision, they were already stuck in place.  
"Hehehe! Maybe you should learn to _watch yourself._ " Frisk looked up, and was met by no less than ten twitching black eyes with white pupils. The spots on his petals were glossy, because they were eyes too.  
_No! Not again!_ As much as Frisk hated it, they had no choice, Flowey would maul them again. They took a breath, and let out a shout, throwing their voice as far as they could. With any luck, Toriel would hear them. It wavered, and rasped a little, seeing as they barely used it.  
But no one came.  
There was a gentle buzz in the back of their head, and their ears popped abruptly. Something stared at them, right through them, and it was listening, intently. Then, it was gone. Flowey hissed in annoyance. "What? Do you think someone will come to save you? Ha! You obviously don't know much about us monsters, do you?!" Frisk was surprised by Flowey's outrage, and held their hands over their ears as he screamed, snapping at their face. "No one cares about a wimp like you! We could have ruled the world if not for you humans, now look at us! We're going to die down here, _you,_ and _me,_ and everyone else. We're going to suffer! Hahahaha!" Frisk screamed again, desperately struggling in their shackles. But no one came. Or...did they?  
Flowey cut himself short as they both heard a noise. It was small at first, a quiet rumble along the ground. Slowly, it grew in volume, until it tore through the trees in waves. A shadow appeared outside the clearing, thick and black, and breathing out shuddering breaths as it moved. It snorted, and a low rolling growl escaped it. Flowey stood stock still for a moment as he stared, wide eyed, at the darkened form. Frisk felt the vines secure themselves more tightly around them, one reaching towards their face. Frisk instinctively shut their mouth, only to realise the vine was covering their mouth and nose completely. "Shit." Flowey muttered, as the beast turned in their direction. "Oh fuck this! Hold your breath." And suddenly, Frisk felt the jolt as they were abruptly yanked into the earth below.  
There was a narrow track being carved in the soil as Flowey swam through it, pulling Frisk along behind them. The speed was dizzying, and for a moment, Frisk thought they were going to be buried alive. Then, Flowey launched back out of the ground, and clambered up into the nearest tree. Frisk was surprised by just how large Flowey's body was. His head and main stem was connected to the huge mass of vines he controlled, and Frisk surmised they were probably his roots. The vine was removed from Frisk's mouth, and another replaced it, wrapping around their body like some strange, waxy cocoon. Flowey scanned the forest hastily, before letting out a sigh. "That was close." He muttered, before turning on Frisk in blazing fury. "You idiot! Do you have _any_ idea how stupid you are?!" Frisk pried their arms loose from the cocoon before replying. * _What do you mean?*  
_ "What do _I_ mean? Oh, because of course it's fine to condemn us both to death! Look, I get it, you're mad because I killed you. But guess what sunshine, shit happens! I don't fucking care about you or the shit you're doing. I'm just trying to live my life, without getting killed by that _thing_ you so lovingly called to greet us."  
He shook his head, and his face flickered to one of pure malice. "Well, now that that's out of the way, I should finish with _you_ , don't you think darling?" Frisk's heartbeat quickened, realising they weren't out of it yet. Taking advantage of Flowey's lax attitude and closeness, they reached out, desperately attempting to damage one of his many eyes. Flowey flinched away from their hand, and their fingers grazed across his face. Frisk frowned, his face was oddly glossy, like it was made of something artificial. Then, their eyes widened as his entire face was pushed away by the force of their hand, separating from his head, and clattering to the ground far below. Frisk followed its descent as it hit the earth, and when they turned back to look at Flowey, their stomach dropped.  
There was a hole in Flowey's face. To be more precise, he had no face, at all. There was a tiny slit in this strange blackness, which allowed Flowey to speak, but no eyes were visible. The white circle that had been his face was lying on the ground, no more than a simple mask. Flowey was silent for a moment, before breathing out a long sigh. "Are you, fucking, kidding me?!" He screamed. "Great, just fucking great. Good job moron! Now I can't fucking see!" The countless vines on the branches below them began to writhe around in an effort to find the mask. "Where is it?!" Although Flowey had many eyes, it seemed they were somehow connected to the mask, now blank and lifeless, unseeing. Frisk felt their body being released, and they toppled onto the lower branch, scrabbling to stay upright. Carefully, quietly, they made their way down the tree, avoiding the various vines, and landed safely back on the ground.  
The mask was blank when they picked it up, two round eyes and an open smiling mouth; there was something about it that was strange, a presence of sorts, a pull, magnetic. " _Put it on."_ Something seemed to whisper.  
"Kid! I swear, you better not touch it! I'll fucking kill you!" Flowey was starting to sound desperate, like his life depended on this. His voice cracked in fury. Frisk didn't want to be killed again, but, they also didn't want Flowey to suffer. Breathing out a sigh, they walked back up to the tree, and grabbed a vine with their free hand. "There you are you little shit!" The vine immediately grabbed Frisk and yanked them back up the tree. "You brat." He hissed. "How did you know about my secret?!" Before he could shout any more profanity, Frisk reached forward and pushed the mask back onto his form. He fell silent, gripping it with a vine, and correcting it's position back over his...face. His eyes flickered, and he could see once again. He looked at Frisk in bemusement, and dumped them back onto the branch beside him. "Well, uhh." He cocked his head, and his expression switched to one of confusion. He rolled his eyes. "Fuck." Frisk frowned at his sudden resignation. * _Why did you stop?*  
_ "You obviously have no idea how much I want to kill you brat. But, of course you of all fucking people can reset. Therefore, it doesn't make a difference, now you know I haven't got a face. Let me tell you, it's shit."  
_*Why haven't you got a face?*  
_ "Ironically, this fucking mask stole it. It's like a memory bank of faces, and once it's got one, the person can't get it back. Of course, it stole mine, so great by the way! But uh, I can use it's powers because... Fuck, I'm not telling you that." Frisk assumed it was probably because Flowey wasn't actually a person, and an object instead. _Maybe it stole Asriel's face, and that's why Flowey is like this?_ They thought. "Fuck, it's not like it matters to you anyway. The mask is my power source, it's bullshit, but I'm fucked without it. I guess, you're a complete moron for giving it back when you could've left me to die, but, you're also a very powerful moron now. Fuck, who would've thought I'd be at the whim of a human? That's depressing." Frisk was surprised by this. Was Flowey being _nice_? They smiled for the first time that run, and patted the vine closest to them, which quickly retracted. "Don't patronise me!" He screamed in response. "That's the last thing I need from you _._ "  
_*So, you'll help me?*  
_ "Honestly, you're screwed either way, so why the fuck not? But, hang on. Don't you dare think that I'm your _friend._ I'll kill you the first chance I get." He grinned, causing a chill to flash down Firsk's spine. "And I'll take great pleasure in tearing you limb from limb. Hehehe~." Frisk nodded, realising, with some disappointment, that Flowey would never change. He seemed more agreeable, but far more malicious than before too.

 


	5. Where's Mum?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A low shuddering growl escaped her, filled with pain, anger, and a desperate need to kill.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey people. Here is your christmas present from me. Shouty angst and death, yaaay!

Frisk sat crouched behind a tree outside the ruins entrance. Flowey was beside them, glancing around nervously for any danger. The ruins were terribly overgrown; tangled ivy and trees covered the walls, or grew out through the broken stone. There was a large hole where the doors used to be, and it appeared some creature had forced their way through the gap.  
* _It lives here?_ *  
"Yeah. Well, the whole fucking forest is it's bitch, at least this side of the ruins. But this is normally where it sleeps."  
* _But what is it?_ *  
"How would I know? I'm intelligent enough that I don't get that close. The King brought her here to protect the ruins and keep out intruders. He called her Toriel I think, although, why you would give that thing a name, I don't fucking know." Frisk's stomach dropped into their toes. Toriel? No...not her. They thought. It would explain why she hadn't come to save them. What's going on here? To begin with they had considered the possibility of a dream; a punishment, to show them what they had done. But, if Toriel had changed too... Frisk gazed at Flowey sadly. They wished they could ask him why this had happened, but he was useless in that regard. "What? Are you patronising me again? I'll kill you!" They quickly turned away from him, before continuing.  
* _What do I do?_ * Flowey rolled his eyes.  
"God! Do I have to do _everything_? I'm not your fucking nursemaid! Just-just follow my lead!" Flowey took one last look around, and sidled carefully up to the entrance. "We have to be quiet. But, I guess that's not difficult for you." Frisk followed carefully, their eyes wandering about the ruins in interest, or at least, what was left of them. The walls were crumbling from lack of care, and the rooms were overrun by plant growth, shadowing the once serene, and cheerful atmosphere. The ceiling was partially falling away in areas, or held together by looping vines and tangled roots. "Wow." Flowey muttered. "This place has gone to shit." After all, this used to be his home too, for a time. Frisk took the lead, trying their best to navigate the rough terrain. Most of the area was passable without the need to solve puzzles, the walls were half collapsed, and the few dangers there had been were so overgrown they had become unrecognisable. Turning the corner, they entered a room Frisk remembered having four Froggits in it, before they pulled themselves to a stop. Flowey bumped his face against their shin, and muttered something unnecessarily rude about human anatomy, before his voice dropped away too. There was something grey splashed across the path in front of them; it was fine and pure, like sand, and glittering with silver hues in the light creeping through the broken roof. Frisk would have thought it beautiful, if they hadn't known what it was. Flowey scooped some of the dust up in a leaf, and looked on with an unreadable expression. "Huh. Guess I should give her credit. No monsters live long enough here to bother me." A grin flickered into view, and he turned to Frisk. "Beautiful, isn't it? Hehehe." That strange snake-like tongue flicked out of the mask and licked up some of the dust. "Sweet~. Death has such a pleasant taste. I wonder if you'd understand that, would you?" Frisk shuddered, and shook their head vigorously. Flowey let out a laugh, like they had told a good joke. "Oh well! You'll get there eventually. If not...you'll probably end up dead too. What a shame!" He swam up close, rising to their height and gazing at them with a strange amusement. "I wonder how much pain one person can deal with...before there's irreversible damage?" He said quietly, as though he was talking to himself as much as Frisk. They stepped back a little, and replied hastily. * _Let's move on before Toriel gets here._ *  
"Go on then. Just head on down this path, you'll see what I mean." Frisk obliged, all too eager to be rid of Flowey's unsettling nature, if only for a few minutes.  
There was a trail of dust leading into the next room, and even more splattered down the path into the rest of the ruins. Frisk considered heading there to find the toy knife, but they didn't want to think about what they would see. In some ways, seeing the dust was even worse than seeing a corpse, because it was absolute that a monster had died there. With a corpse, there's a chance they could still be alive, but this... It felt disrespectful even to step in the ash, knowing the monster underfoot would never receive a proper burial. Flowey came to a sudden stop as they peered through the fallen debris into the room beyond. He backed away carefully, and muttered to Frisk. "She's in there." Frisk shivered at the thought of having to see this creature, whatever it was.  
* _Can we go around?_ *  
"If you want to be here for days until she hunts you down, sure! Be my fucking guest. We _have_ to go this way!" He covered his mouth with a leaf to make a point. "Just keep your mouth shut!" He slithered forward, and ducked under the rubble, appearing behind a rock inside the room. He turned and beckoned to Frisk in an angry manner. Slowly, they stepped towards the entrance, watching their footing so they wouldn't slip. Skittering forward as quickly as they dared, Frisk ducked and came up alongside Flowey, letting out their breath shakily. He gestured over the rock, and reluctantly, Frisk took a look.  
The room was covered in about two inches of monster dust. The tree in the centre was black and withered, and appeared to have deep scratch marks all over it, savage, and bleeding amber sap in waves. There was a thump, and slowly, a large, ambling creature came into view. It was massive, long thick legs and splayed feet, shaking the ground as it moved over it. It had an extremely broad back that was curved down from it's shoulders to meet its head, painfully so, it's shoulder blades sticking sharply out of it's main bulk. The hind legs were folded into a squat, somewhat like a hare, and the front ones were bent at the elbows; there was a lot of power built into them, and the muscles rippled like waves through and up its back as it moved. There was a stubby tail hanging limp, dirty and bedraggled. It's ears were much the same, long and limp, hanging from underneath its long curled horns. The horns were black and shiny, every scrape and score in them very evident of regular conflict. They curled out from its head, thick and ridged, they looked painful even to touch. Every inch of its body was covered in long white fur, blemished in places by deep scars that dripped every time it moved, turning to dust upon hitting the floor. Then, it turned to look in their direction, and Frisk had to cover their mouth in horror at what they saw. It was Toriel. Her form had changed dramatically, and she looked nothing like herself. But Frisk could tell it was her, even without the rich red gaze her eyes once had. Her head was large and her snout stubby, her mouth was open, and her black lips drawn back to reveal equally dark gums and long pointed incisors, stained yellow. She had smaller teeth lining her mouth too, flat, but just as gnarled and vicious as the others. A long black tongue, not dissimilar to Flowey's, lolled from between her jaws; what alarmed Frisk was not just her appearance, it was her face; she had no eyes. There were three sockets visible, one on either side, and a central one, directly in the middle of her brow. Each of them were dark and dripping, clumps of dried flesh and dust crusted the edges, and thick black ooze trailed down her cheeks, staining her brilliant white fur; putrid and unclean, as though removed with little more care than a spoon. A low shuddering growl escaped her, filled with pain, anger, and a desperate need to kill. Frisk whimpered silently as it rolled through them, and they turned away. Flowey looked on with irritation, but luckily he had no way of voicing his snide comments as of now. Gesturing forward, he dived before popping up beside the tree, his eyes fixed on Toriel as she stumbled around the area. It was lucky she couldn't see. Flowey took a look at the crumbling ruin behind him, and nodded to Frisk to follow. The once quaint and cheery house Frisk had called home was in complete shambles; the walls had crumbled away, and cobwebs hung from every crack and cranny. Frisk took a step forward, their breath hitching in their throat as Toriel paused to sniff. Her nostrils flared, desperately sucking in air, rasping and shaky. A growl rumbled through her, and her blank eyes scanned the space, staring blindly, casting around in a frantic manner. Frisk stood frozen in their tracks, staring up at this colossal beast they once knew as mother. She finally turned to face them, and suddenly, a roar ripped fourth, tearing through Frisk with an unstoppable force. She knew they were there. Rushing forward, Toriel desperately swung her horns, catching Frisk across the stomach and sending them flying. They hit the wall and crumpled to the floor, clutching their stomach in agony, letting out a silent whimper. A couple of broken ribs perhaps. The beast was relentless, following their descent with a pinpointed certainty, one of which came from years of practise, and glowered down upon them. She sniffed again, wafting Frisk's hair, and rumbled. They desperately tried to drag themselves out the way, but any ouse of strength they had was sapped away by the burning pain inside of them. Toriel stood directly above, her eyes dripping into the dirt, her face injured by age old wounds. Frisk felt awful. Carefully, with all the energy they had, they reached out a hand, and touched it to Toriel's scarred nose. It was still soft, and slightly furry, even with all the damage she had sustained. She shrieked in fury at the sudden motion, and reared up on her hind legs, towering over Frisk like a muscled brick wall. Then she fell, stamping their head into the dirt with ruthless abandon. They heard an audible crack as their skull shattered under the incredible weight, and then darkness.


	6. The Fallen Angel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Do you hate it? Hate...me?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Guess what, guess what???  
> Time for some feels. >:]  
> *Throws glitter into the air*

Frisk let out a scream as the pain exploded through their body, and their eyes shot open. Clutching their head between their hands, they curled in on themselves like a dead spider, and held still. They felt the sliding crunch as their skull collapsed in on itself, crackling right down their back into the base of their spine. The way it seemed to deflate and splinter off, like stamping on a beachball. Then it subsided, and Frisk gently patted around their head, just to make sure it was still intact.  
 "Gonna be a rough week for you darling." Flowey murmured, a lax amusement to his voice. A vine poked Frisk in the cheek where they lay, and they sloppily got to their feet. "C'mon. Let's get moving." Slowly, the two made their way back towards the exit. Flowey paused as they stood outside Toriel's refuge, sifting through the dust. "Hey look." He pointed at the dust, and then turned to Frisk. "Seeing as I have to do _everything,_ I suggest you use this to cover your scent." Frisk looked on, horror written all over their face. "Look brat! If you want to fucking die again, be my guest! That thing is built to hunt intruders, at least try to smell like this place instead of killing yourself!" They swallowed nervously, and crouched down to the floor. The dust was surprisingly fine, almost silk-like, soft. Frisk scooped some up in their hands, and shuddered as they felt it stick in their hair, and slither down their back. Death, that's what they were covered in, and, they felt like a monster. Maybe that was the point...  
 Frisk stepped carefully through the rubble, and gazed around the sanctuary once more. Toriel was standing some way off, staring at nothing in particular. She looked...resigned, like nothing in the world mattered. Frisk's heart constricted in their chest; they so desperately wanted to comfort her, no matter how she looked. Flowey watched Frisk's stare, and glared. Reaching up, he wrapped a vine around their shoulder, and dragged them forward. "You can't do _anything._ Why should you even care?" Toriel twitched her shoulder, her ears lifting slightly to catch the sound of Flowey's voice. She shuddered out a growl, and her head swung around to face them. Hissing, Flowey picked Frisk up by the arm, and launched them through the doorway of the ruins. "Fuck this! I'm out of here." Vanishing back into the earth. Toriel clawed at the ground where he had been standing, but he was long gone. Frisk rubbed their shoulder where they had fallen, harshly onto the stone. Glancing up, they saw a hole in the floor where the stairs used to be, and, using some convenient vines, made their way down into the corridor below.  
 The world was silent when Frisk pushed the ancient doors away. The snow pierced their vision, lighting up the view in quiet serenity. They breathed a deep sigh, and felt the crisp air tickle their lungs. Finally, back to normal. Running forward, they tumbled into the snow and rolled over, cleaning the worst of the dust from them. They stared up at the ceiling, a dark indescribable mass far away them; it was comforting to see it again. Brushing themselves down, they trudged along the track towards Snowdin.  
 The wind howled through the trees beside the road, echoing into a looping tune that danced through the forest and alighted on their ears. They shivered a little in the sudden cold, and gazed toward the makeshift gate that covered the bridge to their destination. Their stomach fell away as they laid eyes on it; a mass of twisted barbed wire blocked the road, pinned up by sharpened stakes sticking out of the pit below. It was completely impassable. Frisk felt entirely unsettled by this. What was happening? Was this terribly twisted version of their beloved world...going to stay this way? Rotten to the core. They shuddered, and turned back. It looked like it was the end of the line, but at least they had somewhere to go. Kicking up the snow in an effort to distract themselves, Frisk pushed past the bush at the end of the path, and made their way up the small track as before, weaving away into the trees. With any luck, it would allow them to cross to Snowdin. The tree trunks were progressively becoming more and more warped the further they went. Blackened bark and crisp fallen leaves lay everywhere they looked, and the forest was completely still. Frisk shivered, and hoped Flowey would return to them soon. He wasn't the best company, but at least they hadn't been alone.  
 The trees parted abruptly, revealing, to Frisk's horror: a graveyard. There were hundreds, basic curved stabs sitting in the dirt, messily clustered together without order. Frisk gingerly stepped forward, crouching before one of the many stones, sodden with moss and neglect. There was an object sitting in the alcove of the rock: a small worn rabbit plushy. At a guess, Frisk thought it could be one of the rabbit townsfolk who's dust was laid here; a chill ran through them at the thought. Frisk stood up, and made their way slowly through the abandoned area. It was deathly still, not a breath stirring the air, or any sign of wildlife to fill the space; it was like nothing they had ever seen.  
 As Frisk surveyed the area, they noticed a worn track running through the trees on the opposite side of the clearing, and made for it. There was a statue standing in the centre of the yard, a large stone, with a squat figure sitting on top. His legs fell down over the rock where he sat, and he had a hand resting under his chin. Blank, staring eyes looked out over the area from where he sat, lifelike in their absence. He wore a hood low over his face, but Frisk could still barely make out the crooked smile stretching across it; it was a cruel smile, no humour, no emotion at all. He was covered in plant life and moss, tangling around his legs and back, he had been there a long time. The inscription underneath read: 'The Watcher.' Something about his position felt oddly familiar, and Frisk went to hurry on past, when suddenly, a light jumped out at them. One of the statue's eyes lit up, with a flickering white glow. Frisk gasped, and stumbled backward, falling over themselves onto the ground. The statue lifted his head, and stared down at them. A small laugh escaped the recesses of his throat, that is, if he even had one. "Hey there, kid." His voice was cracked and slightly hoarse, as though he hadn't used it for a long time. * _....Dunkle?*_ Frisk signed hurriedly, astonished at the sight before them. It was Sans.  
 His entire body was grey, his once blue jacket bleached almost completely of colour, like it had been left out in the sun for days, dark and crusted. His appearance was mottled, the sheen of white bone masked by grime and little flecks of moss. His face looked...cracked, as though he was covered in dry clay, and his hood hung low over his eyes. There was moss crawling up the back on it, and a veil of ivy hung from his right shoulder, spilling off him like a cloak. His trousers were much the same, the white lines dirtied, and the black bleached, until it was impossible to see where each ended or began. He crackled a little every time he moved, and the dust crumbled off him from where it had stuck his joints together. Frisk shuddered when they realised, Sans was coated in dried monster dust, glittering a little in the light where it fell. His sockets were dark and empty, and his magic eye was glowing with a piercing white light.  
 Sans offered a hand to Frisk, who started, and scrambled away from him. They immediately regretted it, for the look Sans gave them was one of insurmountable hurt. He smiled savagely, and his sockets raked over them, deep circles biting into the bone. It looked like he hadn't slept in years, and his gaze was that of an animal's, hungry and unfeeling. He chuckled again. "What's wrong kid? Scared of me?" Frisk pulled themselves up, brushing the dirt from their clothes before replying. * _Sans, what happened? What's going on?*_ Sans raised his hands up in the mock sign for 'what', and shook with laughter. "I was trying to save my **sans** ity!" He laughed even harder, and Frisk looked on with horror, as large clear tears began to boil up behind his eye sockets, spilling down his cheeks in quick succession. They left clean white lines down his face where they wiped away the dirt, carving their descent right into his skull. Abruptly, the laughter ceased, and his face resumed its monotone stare, wet with tears. "Heh...but now that's gone too, isn't it?" He gestured wide around him. "Like what I've done with the place?" Frisk gaped, and backed away.  
* _You, did this?*_ He laughed in response.  
"Do you hate it? Hate...me?" Frisk shivered under his cruel glare; there was no hate in it, no scorn, no nothing. It scared them more than anything that they couldn't turn to Sans for safety, that they were completely alone in this place. * _I'm sorry.*_ They went to walk past him, when a grey, crumbling hand grabbed their arm, the fingers digging into their sleeve. Sans' familiar smell was gone, replaced by the earthy scent of soil, rotting plant life, and death. "I wouldn't do that, kid." His voice sent a chill through them, and it cracked a little in the effort of speaking. "You turned your back on me once, this time, it'll be the death of you." His grin seemed to grow more intense, filled with a cruel humour.  
 There was a tiny disturbance at Frisk's heel, and out the corner of their eye, they saw a purple and grey shape pop out of the ground. _"Don't take your eyes off him brat!"_ A tiny voice hissed, before the shape vanished. Frisk turned their head, and allowed their eyes to lock with the black pits of Sans' as he stood over them. For a moment the two stood, locked in silence. Watching Sans carefully, Frisk's chest constricted, they so desperately wanted to comfort him; he was the closest family they had, even in this state, even after being murdered by his hand, they couldn't hate him. Sans' eye flickered, and then slowly faded from view. He withdrew his hand, and watched Frisk in a way that suggested he would judge them dependant on what they did next. Heeding the whispered advice, Frisk continued along the path, their face turned toward Sans, and their back to the trees. Carefully, trying their best not to fall over anything, they ventured away down the track, Sans staring after them, with an unfeeling gaze.

 


	7. Follow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Human...."

"You can stop walking like an idiot y'know." A voice commanded. Frisk had been walking backwards for some time, simply following the curve of the road through the trees. Flowey was sitting in a tree just off the track, his mass of vines writhing a little. He looked on with a disapproving glare, and slithered onto the ground. "What were you thinking?! Oh, of course, let's run  _towards_ the danger!" Frisk took one last good look around, before turning to face him. He rolled his eyes. "And I thought I was paranoid."   
_*Where were you?*_ Frisk questioned.  
"Not being a suicidal asshole, that's where. What? You think I care if you die?" That same, nasty grin flickered onto his face. "Hehehe~ So long as I can eat." He shook his head. "However, you  _dying_ makes my job a whole lot harder. You don't want me to get bored waiting for you, right? Ugh, whatever! Just, stay the fuck away from that skeleton, he'll kill you! Why else do you think he lives in a graveyard?" Frisk frowned.  
* _But, he's not a bad person.*_ Flowey giggled in response.  
"Where are you getting these ideas from, brat? You've known him for about five minutes, there's no fucking way you'd be able to make that assumption. Still, think what you like. The amount of times you die makes no difference to me, in the long run."   
 How many times had it been now? Two? It felt like far more than that. Frisk didn't normally think about deaths anymore, but these were so severe, they could still recall every limb crushing moment. They shivered a little in the cold air. "Come on brat. There's no point sitting around here, you have to go back to the path." Begrudgingly leading the way, Flowey took them back through the forest, returning them to the main road with the bridge at the end. "Go on through! It's just barbed wire, not like it's gonna kill you." Frisk carefully made their way across the bridge, ducking to avoid the metal spikes as they stuck in their hair, and tore up their clothes and skin. They stepped out onto the path, and breathed a sigh, stopping to look down at themselves, now partially bloodied. Frisk went to step forward, when their vision blackened suddenly. They reached out their arms in an effort to feel something, when they realised their eyes had been shut the whole time. Blinking in the sudden light, they found themselves back at the ruins exit.  _Did I...reset by accident?_ Suddenly, violently, a pain rocketed through them. They fell to their knees at the impact, and clutched their head as the pulsing blast forced its way through. Their body crumbled beneath them, and they felt their entire being shattering to pieces, like broken glass; leaving nothing but a bloody splatter across the snow. They gasped, and slowly got back to their feet. That made three. 

 

"Told ya." Flowey remarked snidely. Frisk glanced at him, slithering along beside them. "This place is fucked, the monsters are going to be the same."   
* _They're not bad people.*_ Frisk replied adamantly. Flowey scoffed at them.  
"Seriously? That skeleton killed you, didn't you notice? He left you in a bloody puddle on the ground. That's why I told you to keep your eyes on him, if you don't, he'll be somewhere completely different the next time you look back, most likely at your throat. Still, I don't care if you don't." He licked one of his leaves absentmindedly. "Blood is so different from monster dust, there's more...substance to it. Tastes great! I hope you'll let me have some more next time, darling~." He winked. Frisk backed away from him a little, and he laughed at their abject horror. "Let's get moving."  
 The road was still as Frisk walked along, the snow at their feet untouched and pristine. There was no sound to be heard, apart from the light static that accompanies stillness, beeping in their ears. Standing at the top of the hill, they gazed down the sweeping valley with interest. The snow was touched by imperfection in places, but remained mostly whole. Glancing behind them, they thought they could see a smudgy black figure through the trees, but they weren't sure. As they looked again, they couldn't see it anymore. Flowey looked on with an unsettled expression, and Frisk saw him visibly shudder before moving forward. "Uhh..." He looked conflicted. "I'm gonna leave you again."  
* _But I don't know where to go.*_ Frisk was a little nervous at the thought.  
"Oh, use your head brat! It's not like it matters if you die. Me, on the other hand, well, it'd probably be a dream come true! I'm right, aren't I? Therefore, I matter more than you!" Frisk looked down; much to their regret, it was partially true. It occurred to them that they were probably in danger if Flowey was withdrawing, and they glanced around nervously. It...would be bad if they had to die again. Looking back, they watched the snow settle into place where Flowey had vanished, and shuffled forward.  
 The snow was thickening, and a light breeze shifted the flakes, hazing Frisk's vision of the forest. Sounds seemed to echo through the dark trees, muttering quietly, their voices speaking of unnoticed terrors lying in the background, just out of view. The area was far darker than they had expected, and the horizon was shadowed by mist and grime. It was going to be difficult to find their bearings. The breath whistled from their mouth, and froze at it hit the air; had this place...always been so cold? There was a light scuffle off the track, and Frisk stopped dead as they scanned the trees. Large red eyes jumped out at them, small pupils sitting above a dangerously hooked beak. They let out a breath, it was only a Snowdrake; its feathers were dyed black, and they could barely make out its form in the shadows. It muttered something at Frisk's passing, and they could only catch some of the words: "It's here....dark...hide from its eyes..." Before vanishing back into the undergrowth with a hiss. As Frisk followed it's movement, they saw the figure again; it was no more than a shape on the horizon, pulsing and wavering, like smoke. The static in their head rose suddenly, repelling them from it, gentle, but firm. They jammed their fingers in their ears and shook their head in an effort to dispel it, and when they looked back, the shape had vanished.   
 Unease slithered unpleasantly up their back as they pushed forward, and they knew something was watching them. They gulped and picked up the pace, their breath catching in their throat. _"Human..."_ They turned their head at the sound. It was just the breeze, but now the entire forest seemed to be whispering their name as the wind howled through it. Frisk dared to look back up the path they had come, only to see a massive shadow just over the hill. The figure was much closer than it had been, and now they could see a few features; it was extremely gaunt and tall, the clothes sagging off its thin, knife-like form. The visible skin was stark white, outlining its large, hollow eyes. Snapping their head back as their eyes locked with the beast, Frisk broke into a run. Breath rasping in their lungs, they struggled on through the thick snow, burrowing up to their knees in it, their clothes becoming sodden. The whispering static was in their head now, pressing against their skull and murmuring of unspeakable horrors, blurring their vision, slowing their steps. They looked back again, still running. They knew it was useless, the creature's steps far outweighed theirs, Frisk barely came up to its knee. The pressure constricted in their head, morphing into an uncontrollable ringing. They lifted a hand to their face as they felt a warm liquid fall, a nosebleed. Casting their eyes to the forest, they looked for something, anything that would break the unstoppable stare of the beast at their back. The undergrowth was thick with brambles and nettles, so dark that it seemed to absorb the light around it, but Frisk had no other choice. Breaking off the track, they pushed their tiny body through the wall of foliage, not even pausing to wince as the sharp thorns went to work on them. Once the burning gaze was off them, Frisk stooped under a large log, curling up as tightly as they could against the half-rotted wood, and waited.  
 The air was deathly still. It was almost as though the forest has silenced itself, waiting for Frisk to be found. As the adrenalin poured out of them, they felt every cut stinging afresh, and the bitter taste of blood in their mouth, still copiously dripping down their chin. They covered their face, pressing the thick sleeves of their jumper to their skin in a desperate attempt to comfort themselves. They could barely breathe from the running, and their chest hurt with the effort of keeping the air inside of them so they wouldn't be heard. Their large brown eyes scanned the small amount of ceiling they could see through the leaves, and it was still. They realised that, of course, they hadn't heard the creature's approach; surprisingly, its footsteps hadn't made a sound, even with its height. They couldn't feel anything anymore, no stares, no pressure, only the burning of their injured limbs, and the light static that accompanies stillness.  
 Crawling from shelter, Frisk made their way back to the path, keeping their eyes on the tree line for any sign of a shadow. They stared down the road towards their destination, Snowdin. Finally letting out their breath, they took a step forward, before feeling something tug on their clothes. A hand, so cold it burned their skin, was clutching the back of their shirt collar, as tightly as a child would hold their mother's clothes. Frisk froze to the spot, and their feet dragged in the snow as they were pulled around to face it, face him. The bleached, angular head was right in front of theirs, the hollow eye sockets warped far out of proportion with the rest of his face, with tiny glowing specks in the centre of each. His jaw was set, his flat teeth neatly arranged, without any sign of expression. After all, it was unusual that he could show emotion at all, being a skeleton. Frisk wanted to scream. Papyrus, he was nearly as precious as Sans in a lot of ways, his innocence far outweighing theirs, even though he was older than them. The rings around his eyes now were inky and dark, but his skull and all visible bone had not a speck of dust on them. There was a large black cloak hanging over his shoulders, falling just short of his rib cage; the back of it was far longer, spilling down his back like a tangled river; it was terribly torn and tattered, the overall shape forming tentacle-like tendrils that waved expressively, even in the slightest wind. The plain black trousers hung from his hips limply, fading away at his feet in a spectral manner, as Frisk could not see them at all, like he was a ghost. The contrast between his pitch clothing and stark skin made their eyes hurt to look at, and as they stared up into his face, their tears mixed with the blood from their nose, washing it away.  
 Papyrus stood motionless. The arm holding Frisk off the ground was completely still, robotic. His eyes scanned their face carefully, conscientiously, without anger nor mirth. * _Papyrus...*_ Frisk motioned. They knew he wouldn't understand, he didn't remember them, didn't even know them. He wouldn't understand, he wouldn't. For a moment, Papyrus kept his eyes on theirs; the gaze wasn't tender, but it held no intent to hurt. It reminded Frisk of Whimsalot, who was only ever doing her duty, she never wanted to do any harm. Maybe Papyrus didn't either. He paused, and then, his eyes closed in recognition, his head lowering ever so slightly. When they opened again, Frisk felt their form being cast away, back into the darkness. Their soul shivered before them for a moment, and then, it was gone.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya!  
> I'm so sorry for the lateness of this, but I didn't pre-empt the amount of work I'd have. Aren't I a doof. D:
> 
> Anyway, here's the next one my lovelies, hang in there, the feels train is a go! *Choo choo*
> 
> Oh, and if you peeps can't handle the wrecking of both skellebros at once, why not go have a look at my sister's work?  
> CrescentMoogle is the creator of Rise/Reunite. A strange combination of Undertale fluff/feels, and honestly, has made me laugh many times.   
> OH, how I wish I could have fluff up in here(The envy is real). Sooo, give her some love! And be nice, she's a precious feels child. :)


	8. Savages

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Now then, would you do me the honour, of giving me your eyes?"

Their skin was cold, icy; the numbness was immobilising, but a welcome feeling in exchange for the pain. For a moment, Frisk simply lay there in the snow, before pulling themselves to their knees. In a second, they were back on the ground. The numbness had vanished as quickly as it appeared, and now it was replaced by an indescribable pain; they couldn't even tell where it was coming from, only that it pulsed through them in repetitive bursts, breaking up their thoughts and throwing their body and mind into turmoil. Gone. Frisk let out a sigh. Why did this have to keep happening? After a minute they recollected their thoughts, and...got themselves up. There was something missing, what was it? They had forgotten something, but, of course they had no way of knowing what it was; it can't have been that important if they had forgotten so easily. Frisk shook their head, and returned to their journey.   
 There was a smog on the horizon, a hazy black mist concealing the village of Snowdin, or whatever it had become. Making their way slowly towards it, Frisk felt themselves hesitating before the bridge. It wasn't broken, wasn't falling apart as they'd somehow expected; but the silence filling the area was insurmountable, pooling into every crevice and crack, weighty, suffocating. They should have been hearing the distant cries of young monsters playing in the snow, the gentle, yet expressive gossip among the village folk. Anything.   
 They crossed the bridge, their stomach vanishing off the cliff behind them as they took in the scenery. There was a mass of footprints in the snow, running this way and that, desperate, fearful; they were old, a few days at least, the frost almost covering them over. The imperfections were more constant here, holes repetitively dotting the landscape, holes where the snow had been burned away. Frisk stopped to inspect one more closely; they were perfectly round, varying sizes, but far too methodical to be natural. Dust crumbled beneath their fingers. They stepped back in sudden horror, and their eyes raced around the clearing in recognition. Every, single, hole; every patch in the snow, someone, dead. At least half the village must have been wiped out here alone.   
 The houses were gone, leaving nothing but piles of rubble inside the frames of these, once tidy, little homes. The wood was rotting, and there was almost nothing left, only a memory carved into the landscape of what once was. Frisk's head shot up as they heard a sound not far off, a sort of grouped war cry, echoey, with many voices joining it. Crouching behind a fallen log, they peered over the edge, and saw a horrific scene. To anyone from the outside, it would've looked like a normal fight between children, but up close, Frisk could see the damage done. Monster Kid, with wild eyes, deadly sharp claws, actual arms and razor teeth, facing off against Greater Dog, its armour scratched and its fur battered. Cooldrake, Scarf Mouse, Nacarat Jester and Rabbit Kid stood at his back, dwarfed by comparison to the dog's massive bulk; beside them stood his pack, Lesser Dog, Doggo, Doggami and Dogaressa, a snarling mass of stained white fur. The groups faced each other, a twitch of muscle and eye veering between them, and a tension you could cut with a knife. There was a beat, and then chaos. The children stood tall, facing off against the dogs without fear, only bloodlust evident on their faces. Frisk ducked as Lesser dog was sent flying in their direction, sailing over their head and hitting the snow. They would have assumed the children would be no match for these dogs in a fight, but nevertheless, they stood their ground. Lesser Dog got to his feet with a whimper, and let out a vicious snarl as he turned to face them; one of his eyes was missing, pulled roughly from its socket and left with an ugly scar, weeping a little. He was terribly thin, the ribs sticking tight to his sides, and his armour rusted and broken. The remaining eye gleamed with a feral intent, and he stared Frisk down as he advanced upon them. The log rocked a little as Cooldrake clambered up, and Frisk pressed their back to it in an effort to remain hidden. Cooldrake let out a hiss, spreading his dark wings wide, his glinting talons pulling on a strand of Frisk's hair. Launching himself as Lesser Dog, the two were sent rolling into the snow, furious claws and beak tearing at the other's flesh. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, wishing they couldn't hear the wavering cries of pain tugging at their ears.  
 Slipping out from shelter, Frisk took their chances and dashed for the exit. Doggo let out a sharp bark at their approach, scrabbling out of the way as they ran past, his ears flattened in alarm. Monster Kid lifted his head, and his burning orange gaze sought them out with ease; letting out a shout, he ducked under the bulk of Greater Dog and came after then, his claws slicing up the snow. Alarmed by this sight, Frisk happened to glance back at him when they tripped, falling headlong into a snowdrift. A shadow fell across them as Monster Kid stepped forward, the dust of monsters clinging to his teeth and crumbling into the snow, causing it to sizzle away. He snickered. "Hey boys! Looks like we have a new friend to play with." He reached out, a malicious look on his face, twisted with sickening glee at the prospect of a new hunt. "Now then, would you do me the honour, of giving me your eyes?" He lunged forward, only to be shoved aside by Scarf Mouse. Frisk looked up at him in horror. He had no eyes at all, his scarf wrapped tightly around his head to stanch the dust oozing beneath it. His ears twitched expressively, and he let out a growl. "No you don't! It's my turn to pay this time, you know that!" He screamed angrily.  
"Yeah right. I found it first, it's mine!" Monster Kid pushed at Scarf Mouse, leering down at Frisk hungrily. "I've given more than my fair share! At least you can still see." The mouse's sharp teeth tore at Monster Kid's arm, and he scrabbled back at them, all claws and teeth. "Your loss then isn't it!" Carefully getting to their feet, Frisk turned tail and kept running. They lifted a hand to their face, where an lengthy cut had been carved into their cheek from the monster's claws, and winced.   
 Gazing around frantically, Frisk saw something glimmering not far off. There was a comforting red and orange glow, wavering as the light breeze drifted across it. It was...Grillby. He stood still, the wind whipping through him being the only motion he gave. He stared up at the ceiling, the snow drifting past, serenely. He seemed completely detached from the violence behind him, waiting, for what, Frisk didn't know. He had no clothing anymore, his body made up of vaguely human proportions, wispy flames flickering, beautiful. He looked completely unchanged, and his slitted white eyes were unfocused, the expression he only ever held when he wasn't working. As Frisk came closer, they noticed he held an ornate oil lantern in his right hand, it was black, oriental make, and glowing with a soft blue light. The substance inside the lantern was not oil however; it was circular, white and shiny, an eye. The pupil was still reactive, swivelling to face Frisk, pitch black with a purple iris. It unsettled them greatly, but they were relieved that Grillby seemed so passive. They stepped up to the collapsed threshold of the inn, and gave him a wave. His head turned to focus on them, but his expression didn't change, unsurprisingly. Frisk decided to be careful with their words. Even if they garnered no response from this selectively mute spirit, they didn't want to give away that they knew him. * _Hello.*_ They began. * _Do you...know what happened here?*_ No response, of course. Even if Frisk used sign language, that wouldn't guarantee Grillby would be comfortable enough to answer. He stared at them, his eyes narrowing into focus, at least he was paying attention. Frisk was about to step closer, when a terrible feeling crept up on them, forcing them back, almost like a push. The static buzzed urgently, before settling back down, reminding them somewhat of a startled dog. They suddenly heard a shout from behind them, and Scarf Mouse rounded the corner, his ears and nose twitching incessantly. "I can smell you!" He hissed, his four paws rhythmically hitting the snow as he leaped forward. Frisk did a double take, throwing themselves aside, and turning their head to watch as he barrelled through the ruined inn and rolled across the floor. Grillby followed his movements with absolute precision, closing in on the rodent's tiny form. He reached out his free hand, taking hold of his tail; instantly, it turned black and crumbled away, ashes. Scarf Mouse let out a scream and scrabbled to his feet, backing up immediately. His ears quivered frantically, searching for Grillby's presence. But of course, he made no sound, and how can one manage to smell pure fire? Although it was an alarming sight, Frisk noticed Grillby held no intent on his face, rather, a calm curiosity, like he didn't realise his touch would burn. "Leave me alone!" Mouse screamed. He turned to run, but not before Grillby reached out again, going for his ear; his hand passed straight through it, the thin skin burning up at his touch, and leaving finger-shaped holes in its wake. Mouse faltered, ducking smoothly to the ground, and launching himself out of the ruined building, leaving nothing but his footprints in the snow. Frisk stared on at Grillby, who drifted back across the rotted wood to his original position, looking back up to the ceiling. He was silent, showing no emotion, even as a fellow monster cried under his touch.  
 Frisk stared for a long moment, before turning away. They knew they had to leave, this place...was too quiet. There was a shiver running up their spine, and as they turned to look, they thought they could make out a shadowy figure in the distance. They couldn't waste their time. 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HEY! Would you look at that, finally I'm on time. *Party popper noises*
> 
> I've been toying with the idea of two new fics recently, so, looks like someone might be busy soon. :D  
> However, I'm going to try and hold off as long as possible so I continue dis shit without distractions, hopefully.
> 
> Making writing interesting is hard man, especially when you're currently dying from a cold. *Coughs up own lungs*  
> Also....I noticed one little character of mine(who may or may not be a favourite) doesn't seem to have been noticed yet. Hmm, looks like I'm going to have to rectify that huh. >:]


	9. Parasite

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Can you see me?

The air progressed to silence as Frisk wandered along; they marvelled at it's appearance, normally it was never like this. Yes, Frisk lived in a world of silence themselves, but it was seldom quiet. The snow was thickening, and the thud of their steps was dulled, as snow does with sound. The wind strengthened slowly, and the gentle whistle of air over the ground was melancholic in it's passage. The cavernous depths of Waterfall lay ahead, and Frisk was fearful, they didn't want to think of what they would find, lying beyond in the dark. But, they had to keep moving.  
 The snow was heavy on their feet as they walked, and the whispering breath of air became rough against their ears. Pulling up the collar of their jumper, Frisk shuddered at the bite of it, and wished they had a scarf. For a moment there was nothing, just the gentle sway of their steps, the slight crunch of ice. _"Human..."_ They stopped dead, their head fixed. The tiny whisper of words, right behind their shoulder, made their hair stand on end. Slowly, Frisk turned towards the sound, and saw...nothing. The whirling descent of snow made it difficult to see much, but there was nothing there. Taking another step, they watched as a blot appeared on the horizon. It was strangely shapeless, a black form with undefined edges, roughly the size of a man. Frisk didn't feel dread when facing them, rather, a lonely sort of sadness. As they moved closer, the shape started to twitch slightly, as though they had no control of their movements. The smaller the gap between them, the faster the twitch, and Frisk was vaguely reminded of the shower curtain in the true lab, though, it didn't scare them as it used to. There was a strange noise on the wind, somehow like a voice, but disjointed and cut up, more like someone randomly tapping the keys of a piano. They blinked, and abruptly, the shape was gone, leaving a gentle buzz in their ears that coaxed them forward. Papyrus was still on their heels, and now his static had returned.  
 There was a small scuffle off to the left, and Frisk flinched, their feet slipping and causing them to fall. They gave themselves a self-deprecatory whine, and pulled themselves up. Why were they so on-edge? The pressure in their head was building again, a crackle of heavy dullness that refused to dissipate. The humming sound was so loud they could hear it all around them, and glancing back, Frisk could easily identify the shadowed form of Papyrus, gaining on them. Frisk gasped as they looked back at the path ahead, for the figure was in front of them now, wavering between the rapidly falling flakes. How could they have forgotten? This was where they would fight Papyrus, of course it was. The dread weighed heavily, but they shuffled forward all the same, trying to rub the blur from their eyes. They would have to brave this.   
 The snow was falling, pristine and beautiful, soon to be tainted by their blood. Frisk took a breath, and looked up again; however, they could make out the shape more clearly now, and saw, that it was a tree. They turned back wildly, and saw Papyrus bearing down on them, about a metre off. Their heart leaped into their throat, and they broke into a run, their eyes fixed on him as he advanced, silent. Blundering out of the snowstorm, their head whipped round, just in time to catch sight of the tree before they ran head on into the trunk. Their sight left them for a moment as their neck snapped back, and they tumbled backwards into the snow.  
 Clutching their head, they squeezed their eyes shut in terror. Nothing happened. There was a bump on their forehead, and it prickled painfully. Frisk opened their eyes and blinked a few times, trying to correct their foggy vision, when they saw something. There was a pair of feet standing in the snow, exactly where they had been, so much so that they stood in their own footprints. Casting their eyes upward, they saw a child standing in front of them. They were the same height as Frisk, same build, and they had a hand on their forehead, rubbing it, as though in pain. **Ow...?** They muttered, confusion in their voice. Turning to face them, the child looked down at Frisk in puzzlement, and raised their eyebrows. The most immediate features were their eyes, being largely out of proportion with their face, and faintly glowing with a rich red gleam. Their skin was pale and blue-tinted, highlighting the wrinkles covering it with ease. The flesh seemed to sag off their body, old and gnarled, an unsettling sight for someone who seemed so young. Their clothes were ragged and unclean, a dirtied green jumper with a yellow stripe spanning it, torn in some places. From where they had been standing, Frisk could make out the edge of a tattoo on their back where the cloth had fallen away; it was black, and familiar, a circle with curved wings and three triangles clustered below, the delta rune. It had dripped when inked, and sat like a stain on their skin.   
 The child looked at Frisk intensely, their eyes calculated, threatening and humorous all at the same time. Frisk blinked, their closeness to the child making them a little uncomfortable, but they matched their stare. **Can you see me?** The child's mouth moved when they spoke, but their voice, calm and smooth, reverberated through their head, pressing against their skull and slithering into the cracks. _*Who are you?*_ They looked surprised, but smiled politely in response. That smile...it was too _nice_. The curve of blemished lips in a perfectly semi-circular fashion, not too big, not too small. Flowey's grin wasn't nice to look at, but something about this absolute smile was unnerving, artificial. **I am the demon who comes when you call. "Chara." That's me.** The name was familiar, and for a moment Frisk couldn't recall it. Of course, this was Asriel's best friend, the first human to fall. But, they were long dead, right? * _But Chara is dead.*  
_ **I suppose they are.** They held out a hand to Frisk, but when they went to take it, their fingers passed right through. **You see?** Frisk got themselves up. They weren't sure what to think of Chara; they gave them a bad feeling, an ominous weight, but they seemed civil compared to a lot of monsters there. _*Where did you come from? And where is Papyrus?*_ Chara lifted a hand and pointed over their shoulder. Frisk shuddered a little as they followed their gaze, and saw the colossal shadow staring back at them. Papyrus was stood at the edge of the snowstorm, like a barrier preventing his advance. He stood silent, and his eyes were trained on them, unfeeling. **He can't go any further. Not until you move on. Remember?** Chara stepped close, causing Frisk to flinch, even though they couldn't feel them. **As for your other question,** **I've always been with you, since the very first time you fell here, if you can remember that. I do.** Reaching out a hand, they touched it to Frisk's chest. **I no longer have my soul, but, yours is the same as mine was. It drew me to you, your potential.** A cold feeling flashed through them at the contact, and they drew back. **A pity. You never took the chance.** Chara turned and gazed towards Waterfall, an indescribable look in their eyes. **Will you continue?** The smile was back, plain, meaningless. What was that expression hiding? Frisk couldn't tell; but...at least they weren't alone anymore. _*Okay. You'll come with me?*  
_ **Yes. Perhaps this will be enjoyable.**

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hiya lovely people!   
> Sorry, once again. I think this apology thing is becoming a trend.  
> I am currently stocked up with an insurmountable amount of work at college, and publishing chapters is going to be slow.
> 
> Also, the other reason is that I have begun writing a new fic, a much fluffier one just for you! It's set based loosely on Mobtale. If you like that kind of stuff, be sure to check it out! Haven't uploaded much yet, but it's quickly becoming my favourite as I write. <3 It's called: Heathens.  
> Anyway, hope you enjoyed this chapter, that is, if you are the kind of person that likes Chara... At least in this situation, they're great fun to write about. ^^


	10. Eyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They felt the glare on their face, and it hurt to look at for too long; like a bonfire.

Water. It was everywhere. The river had burst it's banks, and in a few minutes Frisk was up to their knees. The water wasn't clear, it was a murky green, and strange weeds floated through it in mangled clumps. As the path sloped slowly onwards, it only got deeper. There was sludge at the bottom of the road, thick mud, plant matter, and whatever else; it made the going difficult.   
**Continuing like this?** Chara asked, walking in suit behind their left shoulder.  _*I have to.*_ They let out a quiet chuckle at that.  
**Your determination has always fascinated me, but being reckless will wear you out.** They pointed over in the direction of the nearest waterfall, where a figure stood, clothed in black, on a narrow wooden boat. "Tra la la." Frisk made their way carefully towards the River Person, the water sliding up to their waist. It was so cold, and clung to their skin, dragging them down with its weight; swimming probably wouldn't be the best idea. "Care for a ride?" They asked, polite, concise, the same as always. Frisk couldn't hide their relief.  _*Hello! Can you help us cross to Waterfall?*_ River Person looked down at them, the hint of skin beneath their hood being pale and sickly, like wet stone. There was a black ooze rhythmically dripping from their face, the dried ash covering the deck of the boat where it fell. "Of course. I can take you halfway, then you'll continue on your own." They raised a hand towards them, palm up. "First, you'll have to pay the toll; one of your eyes." Frisk shuffled back a little, and stared up at them in alarm.  _*Why?*_  
"It's how things work here. An eye is a very valuable thing." They gave Chara a questioning glance, who shrugged.  **I wonder what it would feel like to have an eye removed?** They chuckled a little, and a shiver flashed up Frisk's spine.  _*I can't do that.*_ They motioned.  
"Very well." The River Person paused for a moment, head slightly tilted, before remembering something. "If transport is what you seek, I can help you another way." They pointed to their own shadowed face. "My eye has been stolen, I cannot see without it. If you bring it back to me, I can help you." Frisk nodded eagerly.  _*Of course. Who has your eye?*_  
"The man of burning curiosity, beware his innocent touch." Frisk turned back to Chara.  **Grillby, right?** They nodded, before wading slowly back to the shore.  
 Grillby wasn't alone when they found him. A figure stood, leaning against one of the broken walls of the building, his posture relaxed; being grey, he almost vanished into the background, a squat and solemn shadow. Frisk stopped dead in their tracks, staring at Sans in worry. They wanted to go to him, but even with his unstressed stance, the threat poured off him like smoke. Taking a deep breath, Frisk steadied themselves, the flickering red light in their chest swelling back to a confident glow. They turned in Chara's direction for reassurance, but they were nowhere to be seen. Not to be discouraged by their sudden disappearance, Frisk took a step forward.  
 "Let the place go, hey bud?" Sans was watching Grillby intently, his blank sockets pinched, painful. Grillby gazed back, his expression calm and distant. He was focussed, but Frisk wasn't sure if Sans's words even reached him. He chuckled, a low gravely sound, almost like a purr, and massaged his brow with a wince. "Still, you wouldn't care would you? No customers is bad for business, no living customers anyway." His voice was cheerful, even in its low tone, but there was an underlying desperation, like he was begging for his friend to give him attention, anything. "What are you gonna do now?" Grillby stared, eyes fixed, but unseeing. Sans met his gaze for a moment, before turning away with a sigh. "Y'know, bud, I never-" He cut himself short as he caught sight of Frisk, and the white glimmer of his eye lit up his face in the gloom, accentuating the shadows under the sockets . They looked up at him in worry, ready to run at the first sign of danger. "Hey there, kid." His voice retained its light humour, the savage grin seeming to bite deeper into his face. "Long time no see." Frisk watched him, unsure how to respond.  
_*Hello.*_ They kept their eyes downcast, instead watching Grillby as he floated back to his original spot in the wreckage. The lantern he held swung a little as he moved, the rusty handle squeaking; the eye inside swivelled around to face them, the pupil constricting into focus. How would they get to it? Looking up, Frisk took a step back suddenly, realising Sans had teleported directly in front of them, glowering. "Keeping an  **eye** out, are we?" He snickered. "Might be good for you, after all..." He glanced at Grillby. "Give a man a match, and you'll keep 'im warm for an hour. Light a man on fire, and you'll keep him warm for the rest of his life." The laughter boiled up from him in waves, shaking his shoulders, the tears streaming. It was so shuddery, Frisk found it hard to tell if he was crying with laughter, or sadness; it sounded painful. After a moment the breath caught in his throat, causing him to cough, violently. He doubled over, heaving out breaths. They looked on in alarm at the grating sound the cough made, and reached out a hand to help. His eye flickered back to life suddenly, and he glared at them, composing himself as quickly as he had succumbed. A trickle of black ooze seeped out the corner of his mouth, but he wiped it away before Frisk could look any closer.  
_*Are you....okay?*_ They questioned.  
"Me? I'm just dandy." The amused tone was back, although now, it sounded more forced. They looked back at Grillby, who had remained oblivious to the conversation entirely, staring at the ceiling. Taking a breath, Frisk stepped carefully towards him, keeping close to what was left of the Inn wall. Sans watched them with an unreadable expression, and shifted on his feet. As Frisk got closer, they marvelled at the level of heat spilling off the spirit. They felt the glare on their face, and it hurt to look at for too long; like a bonfire. Slowing their breathing in an effort to remain unheard, they reached out a hand towards the lantern, which had a little door on the side, with a latch. A searing pain shot through their fingers on contact, and they stumbled back; the metal was boiling. They clamped a hand over their mouth as they stared down at their fingers, trying their best to muffle their cry. They saw Sans flinch out the corner of their eye, and he shook his head.   
 Frisk looked back at the lantern, and down at their hands; their index and middle fingers were reddened, and tingling slightly. They didn't want to touch the lantern again, but, did they have a choice? It was this, or the loss of an eye. No, they had to do this, for everyone's sake.  
 The latch on the lantern door was rusted, and it would take a few tries to pull it loose without alerting Grillby. Frisk rubbed their burning fingers, and reached forward again. They fumbled with the latch, trying to get their nails around the tiny handle, before withdrawing again. Their breath became ragged, and their hands shook a little as they looked down at them, now red and vaguely swollen; the pattern of the metal bars engraved into their skin.   
It  _hurt._ The tips of their fingers were blotchy, and slightly dark; a numbness was starting to take effect, and it was hard to move them, the encircling pain being all they could feel. They tried again, the latch shifting about halfway along, before they retracted, their body shuddering in response. A wail whistled up their throat, but they held it back. Wiping the tears away, they continued.  
 "Kid..." Sans murmured. He watched their attempts with a twisted expression, concern and anger all in one. "Kid, stop it. You're just gonna hurt yourself." Frisk ignored his words, finally pulling the latch away, and swinging the door aside. "Stop!" There was desperation in his voice now, and violence. Pushing their hand inside the lantern, they couldn't help but let out a wavering shriek, gritting their teeth. The inside of the cage was red hot, searing, and blistering their skin with ruthless abandon. Closing their fingers around the eye, they drew back, clutching it to their chest for comfort, as their hands sizzled in agony. The eye was wonderfully cold, vaguely slimy, and watched Frisk's face carefully as they squinted down at it.  
 Letting out their breath, they looked up, to see Grillby staring back at them. Their whimper had caught his attention, and now he was reaching out to them, towards the eye they had stolen. They had nowhere to go. Curling in on themselves, Frisk desperately tried to avoid the brunt of the attack. They couldn't even sign at him to stop, their hands were completely dull of sensation, and they were exhausted. Nothing happened. Opening their eyes, Frisk looked up to see Sans stood in front of them. He had his hand outstretched, a blue light flickering between his fingers. Grillby gazed at him curiously, his body cloaked in the glow, frozen in its descent. Carefully, Sans pushed his hand forward, causing Grillby to drift away, coming to a stop about a metre off. He turned back to Frisk, and pain flickered behind his eyes as he inspected their hands. Realising they could barely communicate anymore, Frisk struggled to raise their hand to their head, and question.  _*Why did you help me?*_ A glare overtook his features as he watched them, and his eye burst into life, a burning symbol of how deep his suffering ran. It reminded Frisk easily of what they had done, what they had put him through; for the first time since it started, they realised why he had hurt them, why he had killed them.  
 "Stop looking at me,  _kid._ " Sans growled, his voice rumbling dangerously. Frisk squeezed their eyes shut, and felt the air waver at a sudden movement. Blinking, they gazed up to find he was nowhere in sight. Grillby looked on with vacant eyes, before returning to his spot. Looking back down at their hands, nails blackened, skin peeling and bubbled, Frisk held the River Person's eye close, and made their way slowly back down the track, towards Waterfall.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've noticed a few of my stories and books at the moment are all containing events of child injury...  
> A cause for concern? Nahhh.
> 
> Thank you guys for your continued support, this is going better than I ever could have hoped!  
> Please do continue to voice your opinions and any forward thinking that you think I should work on, it's always a wonderful help! :33  
> *Puts stickers on your face*


	11. Ripples

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It sat with its head bobbing, a sickly translucent pink, and large black eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello again my people! :D
> 
> This is the last chapter I can give you for a while.
> 
> So sorry, but my exams and deadlines are becoming a little stressful, therefore I will need to take some time off to finish them before I can continue writing.  
> That...and my creativity seems to have done a runner. I know exactly what I need to write, but the words come out sloppy. It's a little frustrating.
> 
> Not concluding this to be on hiatus, simply that it's going to be a while, for both fics.  
> I'm sorry! If it was my choice I would spend my life writing in a shack in the woods, but reality calls.
> 
> I'll get you something great next time okay? How about cake? Do you like cake?

The single wooden oar of the boat dipped smoothly with barely a sound, aside from the gentle tug of the water as it came away. Frisk stared down at the depths, the darkness swallowing their vision. Spirals danced across the surface behind them as the oar pushed it back, again and again. The distant sound of rushing spray was all they could hear, and the occasional bubble from below. As the boat drifted on, Frisk could make out colossal systems of plant life, forests of waterweed swaying in the current, twisted together, dense and dark. The River Person slowed their paddling, as the water was now choked with dark thickly threaded matter; clawing strands reaching to the surface in search of light, and occasionally bursting through, forming leathery lily pads, wide enough to hold a person comfortably. They were everywhere.  
 "This is as far as I go." The River Person announced. Frisk gazed down at the water, the bottom far out of sight. If they fell in, they probably wouldn't be strong enough to pull themselves back up. They would have to be careful.  _*Thank you.*_ They would have liked to say more, to hang onto the final moments of safety they felt with a familiar friend. But what could they say? Words didn't matter here. Crunching through the dust on deck, they reached out, and stepped down onto one of the lily pads; it was surprisingly buoyant, and held their body easily. "Don't forget yourself, or where we belong." Frisk turned to The River Person in surprise, but of course they could not read them, their expression carefully hidden beneath their hood. "Tra la la." 

The lily pads rocked slightly as Frisk scrambled across them; they were glossy, and smelled of rot. Bubbles rose from the depths in repetitive bursts at the disturbance, and water lapped at their feet, icy cold. The cavern curved in on itself as Frisk advanced, the walls pressing the river into a narrow track, before opening out again at the far end. It was incredibly dark here, the faint sigh of waves and wet slap more akin to oil than moisture, pitch black in colour.  
 The breath caught in their throat as a prickling heat flashed through them, the jolt sickening. Their hands were stinging, and as they touched them to their skin, they realised they were boiling. Crouching as close to the edge as they could, Frisk dipped their hands into the darkened pool, and let out their breath slowly. A couple of the bubbles on their fingers and knuckles had popped, leaking a sticky yellow fluid, and they desperately tried to brush it away, every movement they made causing them to whimper at the abject pain. The water shifted slightly, and bubbles rose afresh as something moved below the surface. Their eyes scanned the space below them, and the weeds were dragged aside as the monster surfaced. It sat with its head bobbing, a sickly translucent pink, and large black eyes. It was Ferry, one of the residents of Waterfall. Their body was small and plump, with a swaying tail and webbed feet with little claws, similar qualities to an axolotl. Frisk remained very still as they observed them. Ferry reached forward, and nudged their hands curiously, their scales easily biting into their fragile skin. With a yelp, Frisk scrambled back, and the monster recoiled in surprise; for a moment they simply stared, before the glossy eyes became fierce. They let out a low snarl, revealing rows of neat, needle-sharp teeth. Leaping across to another lily pad, Frisk jostled to regain their balance as Ferry lashed out, scrabbling at the plant they had been standing on, and tearing it apart. Skidding across the next pad, one foot veering off into the river, Frisk tried to get their bearings in the darkness, lifting their hands to the walls in an effort to feel the direction they needed. Ferry turned and dipped under the spray, their fins carrying them effortlessly through the undergrowth towards them.  
 As Frisk turned to look, they lost their footing, the now wet lily becoming extremely difficult to cling to. There was a splash as they collapsed into the water, the chill filling them up, and the weeds dragging them down. The bottom of the river was metres below, and their legs flailed desperately as they pulled at the plant life they could see, oblivious to their damaged fingers, trying to clamber back up. A sharp pain ran through their leg as they did so, the extra weight forcing their head below the surface. Ferry kept pulling, their eyes expertly trained by the absence of light, and their body strong. Bubbles gurgled from Frisk's mouth as they struggled to catch the last wisps of air they could manage, before the water pushed it away, tasting of rot and sickness. Their chest was bursting, and they kicked at the side of Ferry's head in an effort to remove them, but to no avail; they were almost twice their size, easily as big as Sans, and they could not overpower them. Frisk's heart constricted at the thought of their dear friend, and inside, they desperately begged him for help.  
**The help you want will not arrive.** The calm and almost uninterested voice of Chara broke through their thoughts, and they stared up through hazy eyes to see them drifting somewhere above their head. Frisk no longer had the strength to keep their eyes open, and their chest burned from lack of oxygen. Chara coughed a little before they spoke again. **Drowning....is not the best way to go.** They gasped for air, the smile never leaving their lips. **Do you want my help? Or do you want to know what it feels like to be a fish?** Frisk nodded franticly, their eyes squeezed shut. **This monster may have changed in shape, but they are the same as they were. Do you remember them?  
** _No. I've never seen them before._ Frisk thought. A twinkle of curiosity appeared at the corner of Chara's eyes, the bright red light dancing through the dark waters. **You don't? My hunch was correct then.** They murmured. Frisk's vision was growing dark, the resounding bleep of the reset humming on the edge of hearing. _Please...  
_**Try standing on their face. Relax your struggling.** Frisk slowly let their body go limp in the water; at this point that wasn't a difficult thing to do. Ferry slowly unclamped their teeth from their leg, and just as they were about to attack again, Frisk firmly planted their feet in the centre of their forehead, just above their eyes. Ferry went rigid for a moment, a gurgled purr escaping them. In a second, Frisk felt themselves being rocketed from the water, a gasp filling their lungs with air, and causing them to splutter. Feeling weak at the knees, their legs gave way, only for them to fall unceremoniously onto the bank, their back solidly hitting the ground. Chara winced, and let out a little giggle. **Not much for pain, but, perhaps next time.** Frisk slowly got themselves up onto their knees, and gazed around them. They were sat in a little alcove beside the river, looking on towards the rest to the cavern. As they looked, they saw a faint blue light glowing just around the bend in the flow. They had a ways to go yet, and there were no lily pads here. Ferry sat in the water in front of them, gazing up with curious eyes, their paws swaying to keep them upright. Lifting their hands, Frisk made an effort to sign them a question, but it was a difficult endeavour. Ferry blinked at their motion, and blew a bubble into the water. Reaching forward, they rested their nose on the bank, and growled softly, coaxing Frisk to stand on them again. _*Thank you!*_ Frisk replied, with all the enthusiasm they could muster, and carefully navigated their way onto Ferry's back; it would be a long trip through Waterfall. Ferry's skin was surprisingly firm, and Frisk sat quite comfortably, albeit their clothes remained wet and clingy. Pointing ahead of them, Frisk urged Ferry forward, and they paddled expertly into the current, speeding off though the water. Chara looked on as they exited, the smile plain and hidden as always. As Frisk's mood lifted, they felt the grip on their consciousness fading away. **No matter.** They mused. **All they need is time.**

 


End file.
